


Stand Against the Chaos

by Herbrarian



Series: New Orders [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Atonement - Freeform, Backstory, Blessing, Chant of Light, Character Study, Gen, Grand Cathedral, Guilt, Mage Rebellion, Mage-Templar War, Templar Order, The Chantry, Val Royeaux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:23:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6170761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herbrarian/pseuds/Herbrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Previously: The Right Hand’s offer to join The Divine’s retinue and to work to resolve the rebellion has Cullen questioning his place in the Order and thinking for the first time in a long time about what his next step looks like.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Knight-Commander, if you will step this way, the Right Hand will see you now.”

Cullen Rutherford follows the clerk deeper into the Grand Cathedral’s inner sanctum. He has never been to the heart of the Chantry’s power in Val Royeaux, and it is difficult for him not to feel the enormity of where he is and what he is about to do.

He has travelled with very little notice, but the Right Hand’s personally delivered invitation had been insistent that he decide soon.

The clerk leads him to a large, open hallway set with guards. There are three doors and the clerk ushers him to the nearest one. Behind it is a large room, one wall of which is entirely a bank of windows. The view, he sees, is the sprawl of the Cathedral grounds and gardens laid out entirely to the eye. The room itself is dominated by a large table which is mostly covered with maps and papers. The wall opposite the bank of windows is filled with books of varying sizes. He glances at them as he walks by and sees mainly military and some religious texts: the library of a particular kind of scholar. The room funnels into a point where there is a large desk and a seating area nestled into its apex.

Behind the desk is the Lady Seeker Cassandra Pehtaghast, Princess of Nevarra, Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of the Divine. On Cullen’s entrance, she steps out from behind the desk and meets him halfway. She greets him by clasping her hand to his forearm.

“Knight-Commander, it is good of you to come. Please sit,” she gestures at one of the chairs. “This is your first time in the Grand Cathedral?” she waves out the clerk who retreats out of the room, but out a door that Cullen only now notices, nestled as it is in the wall of bookshelves. He pulls his attention back to the woman sitting across from him.

“Yes, Lady Seeker. My duties have never brought me to Orlais. It is an impressive sight.”

The Seeker’s expression is gruff. “One that will quickly erode if we do not control the rebellion. The situation is quite dire, but the Divine does not give up hope easily nor does she leave things to chance. You are aware I have been seeking the Champion?” He nods. “While Meredith’s actions in Kirkwall may have created the ignition for this conflagration, Kirkwall is still where the Divine believes a solution lies. We will continue to seek the Champion, but she is not all we need.”

She pauses and Cullen thinks what neither of them says into the breach. The Templars have left, have become unstable, because this Divine sought to interfere and did not trust her military arm, her allies. But, he of all people knows that it is not that simple. Kirkwall had not been simple. He dismisses his judgment and looks up at the Seeker as she continues on.

“I do not have to tell you that unchecked, the Templars represent a military might that could overwhelm the Wardens, Celene, and the Mages. We have unleashed them onto the world, and all of Thedas cannot afford for us to fail.”

Cullen rubs his neck and nods his head. This had been all he could think of on the journey here. The situation was grave. With the Circles in chaos, there was more than just the unchecked large force of Templars that were supposed to be watching the Circles at stake. The possibility of the unleashed destruction of Mages, too, would make a Blight enviable; Abominations would be inevitable.

“Lady Seeker, I appreciate the sense of confidence from the Chantry on what we’ve rebuilt in Kirkwall.”

“You took the shards of the order left in Kirkwall and re-forged it; it is remarkable. You’ve saved the Order there and kept them focused, single-handedly helped them to reclaim their purpose. You are far too modest.”

 “Thank you. But you are asking for the help of a Templar to begin negotiations, and I cannot.”

“Knight-Commander, we fear that without the guiding influence of someone like yourself, a Templar like yourself, there may be no negotiation with the Templars. You must see that if you don’t, no one can—”

“No, Lady-Seeker. What I mean, — rather, I’m saying, I cannot be a Templar anymore. I am requesting to leave the Order.”

Cassandra stops, her mouth agape, and she sits back in her chair.

“But, why?” she asks.

“My reasons,” Cullen responds quietly, “are my own, but I can no longer be of the Order.”

“Where will you go? How will you leave?” The question of whether or not he will join the rogue Templars hangs in the air.

“I will retire and make my way to Denerim. I have … friends there who can more than likely see me settled in the guard.”

The immediate danger of his defection past, the Seeker pounces:  "What you are asking, Knight-Commander, is rarely done. Is this why you came? To ask Most Holy for dispensation for the Lyrium?” Cassandra’s eyes flash.

Cullen is affronted, but not surprised by her question. “No, I will stop taking Lyrium. I will put all of that life aside and start again. I will be one thing or the other; I cannot cling to a half-existence.”

“No, my child, I do not believe you could.”

Cullen is startled by a voice from the door near the desk. Turning to look at the newcomer, he catches the Lady Seeker’s startled face out of the corner of his eye, and his hand goes to his hilt on instinct.

“Most Holy!” He hears Cassandra say in exclamation and he realizes that he is in the presence of Divine Justinia V.

Immediately, Cullen drops to one knee, right fist to his heart, left hand to the ground and head bent in a bow of supplication. Despite everything that has happened, all of his doubts, he finds himself intensely moved by being in the presence of Her Holiness, the holder of the Sunburst Throne.

His eyes to the ground, he sees the hem of her robe approach and stop in front of him. Her hand touches his head and his eyes prickle as she gives him her blessing.

“The righteous stand before the darkness and the Maker shall guide their hand,” she intones and then she removes her hand and steps back. Cullen does not move, not wanting either woman to see the tears swimming in his eyes. He senses, though, that this woman–this symbol–understands his hesitation and holds the silence for longer than formality would strictly dictate.

“Would you rise, Ser Knight, and sit with me?” she asks.

He does so, sitting after she settles herself in the chair across from him. “Cassandra told me we would have a visit from you today. This is your first time in the Grand Cathedral, I think? You will need to walk the pilgrim’s way before you go. It is a necessary and expected chore. But,” she smiles at him and pauses, her eyes glittering speculatively, “I think you should also make time to visit the lower chapel in the Southeast wing. It is not on the normal route, and it is peaceful; the statue of Andraste there is particularly fine. I believe it comes from Ferelden, with stone from Orzammar, a remarkable specimen of the faith.”

Cullen nods, not quite able to take in that the Divine is giving him tour advice.

“So, Cassandra,” the Divine looks over to her Right Hand, her eyes soft and bright with intelligence, “what is your report of our Knight-Commander?”

“He is declining the offer to be our parley agent, Most Holy. He says he will no longer be a Templar.”

“Oh, yes? Hmmm, grave indeed. And have you tried to talk him around, Cassandra?”

“Most Holy, no,” Cassandra blusters, caught out, “we had just been discussing it.” Cassandra straightens slightly, “but he will no longer be able to approach the Templars as one of them if he leaves the Order. I believe the Knight-Commander’s decision to decline your offer is the best for all.”

“You believe, Cassandra, or you think?”

“Mother?” Cassandra asks, confusedly.

“Forgive me, Cassandra,” the Divine smiles at the other woman indulgently, “my Left Hand has been whispering and I know more than you realize. You will stop taking the Lyrium, Knight-Commander?” The Divine turns and focuses her formidable attention on him.

He is startled by her question, but of course she must have overheard him from the doorway as she came in. “Yes, Divine,” he says meekly, inclining his head, “I no longer want the life of a Templar.”

“Because you feel you need to atone?”

Cullen’s head shoots up and he looks at the Divine in confusion and wonder. “How do you? … I – I do,” he blurts out, and then sits in silence. He has spoken of this feeling to no one except … realization blooms on his face.

“Yes, my child, I am afraid your confessor is rather a loyal man. He sought to ease difficulties for me and undoubtedly hoped to garner favors.” She reaches out and pats his hand, “Please do not worry; he has been reprimanded.” The Divine lifts the same hand toward the doorway she came from. “While her reputation frequently precedes her, I believe you may already know my Left Hand.”

Leliana, Nightingale of the Orlesian court, a Lay Sister of The Chantry, companion to the Hero of Ferelden, veteran of the Fifth Blight, and Left Hand to Divine Justinia V saunters into the chamber to stand next to the Divine. “Knight-Commander, you are looking well,” Leliana says, inclining her head.

“Leliana,” the Divine asks, “would you and Cassandra go through to my office and wait for me there?”

“Of course, Most Holy,” and both women quickly leave the room, the door shutting Cullen and the Divine in the silence.

The Divine studies him, as if she is trying to discern some archaic and difficult text.

“The Chantry has failed you, Cullen. We did not protect you after Kinloch. We did not shelter you the way Andraste tells us we should have done. I say this so that you may understand that I know we have failed you and that you owe us nothing. Regardless, though, I must ask you to meet this duty and to provide us your guidance, your steadfastness, your belief.”

Cullen struggles to master his emotion, and finally cannot. His head drops to his hands. He begins to weep. The Divine begins to chant:

 Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the Light.  
I shall weather the storm. I shall endure.  
What you have created, no one can tear asunder.  
Who knows me as you do?  
You have been there since my first breath.  
You have seen me when no other would recognize my face  
You composed the cadence of my heart.

The Divine pauses, Cullen’s weeping subsides.

“What is next, my son?”

Cullen haltingly begins, his voice raw from his emotion. 

Through blinding mist, I climb  
A sheer cliff, the summit shrouded in fog, the base  
Endlessly far beneath my feet  
The Maker is the rock to which I cling.

He meets her gaze, pleading in his eyes as he continues the Chant: 

I cannot see the path  
Perhaps there is only abyss.

He stops, unable to carry on. The Divine reaches out her hand to him, and he moves to kneel before her, his head bowed. The Divine picks up the Chant again. 

Trembling, I step forward,  
In darkness enveloped.  
Though all before me is shadow,  
Yet shall the Maker be my guide  
I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.

Cullen begins to recite with her in unison. 

For there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light  
And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.  
I am not alone. Even  
As I stumble on the path  
With my eyes closed, yet I see  
The Light is here.  
Draw your last breath, my friends  
Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.

Cullen’s voice breaks and he sees before him the faces of Templars and Mages, alike, tortured by Abominations. Friends, people he lived with side-by-side, cut down by his own hand. He feels the Divine’s hands move from the crown of his head. Her splayed fingers shift to gently lift his vision. She looks at his tear-stained face and quietly invokes the finish of the song:

“Rest at the Maker’s right hand, and be Forgiven.”

The tension is overwhelming. The Divine moves her hand over his head in a familiar sign of benediction and places her hand on his shoulders. Eventually, she interrupts the silence:

“Your love for the Maker, I think, will be with you all your days. Your faith …” she trails off. “Well, it would not be faith if we did not test it.” She smiles genuinely at him, enveloping him in her love and light. “Come, there is a wash basin there. Refresh yourself and then lead me into my office. Cassandra should be in quite a pique by now.”


	2. Chapter 2

He feels startled that their audience is not at an end. He has accomplished what he set out to do. There is not anything more to discuss. “Divine?” he asks questioningly.

“Oh, you thought I was going to give away my blessing without more being said?” she grins impishly, her eyes sparkling.

She shoos him to the basin and waits. Hurriedly, he splashes water on his face, relieved to feel the fury of his emotion wipe away with the towel. He tucks his gauntlets behind his belt and quickly rejoins the Divine by the door nestled in the bookshelves.

He holds out his arm, fist extended for her to place her hand along top so he can guide her in. She looks up at him, and chuckles.

“Ser Knight, I am an old woman, and you are a very handsome young man.” She slides her hand into the crook of his elbow, “do you really think I would miss the chance to walk beside you? I may be the Divine, but I assure you I am still quite human.” Blushing slightly, Cullen tucks her hand against his side. He takes care not to pin the frail, but strong, arm against his Templar plate.

Pushing open the door, he can hear that they are walking into a heated exchange. The Lady Seeker, the Right, is pacing, looking like fury, speaking quickly. The Nightingale, the Left, leans over the table, her arms supporting her weight as she shakes her head and tries to interrupt the Seeker in her tirade.

“Cassandra, we must rely on the Maker and Justinia, we cannot waver from this path. Have faith –”

“We should continue to look for Hawke, Leliana. I cannot see any other way through this. What he wants to do is madness at the best of times, and this is –”

“Goodness, daughters, you will frighten our guest and make my job much harder.” The Divine interrupts and smiles to soften the acerbity in her tone. Absently, she pats Cullen on the arm and moves to behind her desk. As she begins to sit, she gestures for the three of them to be seated across from her.

Cullen hears Leliana breathe a sigh, a slight draw of breath, nothing more, and the two women sit, one on each side. Left the middle chair—and that directly across from the Divine—Cullen hesitates. But, all three women look at him expectantly and he has no choice but to sit.

“Knight-Commander,” the Divine begins, “Cassandra has shared with you what she knows, that I have been looking for an emissary to the Templars. This was true, but it is no longer what is in my mind. Events have come to light that we are more broken than we feared. The Templars travel to the South for locales unknown and the Mages are gathering in Ferelden. These are events not seen since the time of Divine Justinia I. In response, I will summon a Conclave for all parties to parley and find resolution. Upon the conclusion of the Conclave, I will formally reinstitute the Inquisition.”

Justinia falls quiet, her posture relaxed, and waits.

The three sit in stunned silence. The Divine has declared she will begin a war as easily as if she had asked for honey in her tea.

“Most Holy,” Leliana begins, “all of our work for negotiations, are we to abandon them all?”

“No, Leliana, we will try to sue for peace, but I have no expectation of it. Andraste weeps for her church, as she should. Had the Blight not taken attention, Kinloch Hold might have woken us,” Cullen winces, “but certainly Kirkwall should have. That a Knight-Commander of Meredith’s stature, a Senior Enchanter, and a Grey Warden could not see the lunacy of what they were doing, the incongruity of their actions, tells us that there are many forces at work and some must be from beyond the Veil.

“We are at war,” the Divine finishes simply. “And we do not yet know with whom we fight.”

Standing, she walks to her work table and pulls a tome from the bottom of a stack. It looks plain until Cullen catches sight of the cover. On it is the symbol of the Inquisition of Old, the joining of the Seeker’s and the Templar’s emblems. The Divine walks back to the trio, all eyes watching her, and she hands the book to the Seeker.

“You will be its leadership, all of you. That is what we prepare for now. Leliana and Cassandra, as Left and Right Hands of the Divine your movements will go unremarked. You will both begin to position yourselves with knowledge and guide events seemingly independent of me.

“For you Ser Knight, it will be understood that you have left your Templar duties—at my request—to come to provide counsel and insight to me in this most fragile of times. While you do so, you will be open with how much you led the reconstruction of Kirkwall, that it was your work and that of the Champion—and not that of the Chantry—that restored order.

“You three will begin to work, to advise, to shape events, seemingly independent of me.”

 “Holy Mother,” the Seeker protests, “we cannot act counter to you. Our support is with you, any strength we have comes from your authority, this is nonsense.”

The Divine sighs: “When it comes time for the Inquisition leadership to be determined you will be—you must be—natural choices, ready to meet the future that you have been quietly shaping.

“Cassandra, no one can see all ends. But behold what the Maker has provided. Sitting before me I have one of the most politically astute and accomplished Seekers of our time, servant of two Divines; one of the most renowned Templars who has demonstrated loyalty and discretion in the face of overwhelming terrors and restored order to a city and a Circle steeped in chaos; and the Nightingale of the Imperial Court sent by the Maker to be one of the Heroes of the Fifth Blight.

“If you cannot reform the Inquisition, Cassandra, then no one can.”

A knock from the door across the room breaks into the pregnant gloom that descended with the Divine’s pronouncement. The door opens to reveal a clerk who crosses the floor to the Divine. He approaches and whispers a message to her.

“Ah, Leliana, Josephine has arrived. Greet her in your office and I will be along shortly.”

Leliana nods her acceptance, rises, and follows the clerk out the door which presumably leads to her own office.

“Knight-Commander, our time draws short. I am sorry to press, but I will need you to accept before the week is done. You return to Kirkwall soon?”

“I leave the day after tomorrow, Most Holy.”

“Ah, then your response can be sooner rather than later, excellent. Cassandra will walk you out and take you by the Southeast chapel, yes? Yes.” The Divine rises in dismissal, coming around the desk and places her hand on Cullen’s arm to lead him to the main door. “Please make use of Cassandra and Leliana as assets until you officially arrive. I want you to familiarize yourself with any information that you may need. Leliana will provide a cipher for you to use for messages. Before you set out for Kirkwall Cassandra will also have a formal succession plan for the Kirkwall Order and Circle that you can begin enacting upon return. I will expect you back here within a month’s time. We will wait to announce the Conclave until you are officially in your ‘new’ position.”

They are at the door, and the Divine turns to face him and places his hands between hers, “Maker watch over you, Ser Knight.”

Then he is outside in the hallway, past the guards, and walking with the Seeker into the more public areas of the Cathedral.

“Is she always that forthright?” Cullen asks after several minutes of silent walking.

“Truthfully? Yes. It is rare for her not to speak her mind, although perhaps not always so directly as she did today. Time closes around us and there are only riddles in the dark.”

They walk, each mired in their own thoughts. Not noting where she is leading, Cullen startles when Cassandra pauses and turns toward him.

“Knight-Commander, I do not know what this will bring, or if we can change the flow of the tide, but I do know that what you plan will be intolerable on your own. Join us. I vow I will do everything in my power to help you leave Lyrium behind.”

She steps back and briskly nods her head. “You are here. I will leave you.”

Cullen looks around. They are in a shadowy hall and alcove underneath the main chancel, he believes.

“Where are we, Lady Seeker?”

“The Southeast chapel, of course,” the Seeker states quizzically.

“You’ve brought me because she said to.” He pauses as she turns to go and then he calls after her:  “She will not let me say no, will she?”

The Lady Seeker stops and turns her head to speak over her shoulder without turning around. “No, she will not. But after a time you will not want to say no. You will simply want to follow. Andraste guide you, Ser Knight.”

And then he is alone, the Seeker’s footsteps echoing in the gloom.

He opens the door to the chapel to discover that while he is below the chancel, the chapel is still above ground. Light streams into the stained glass windows on the opposite wall. The life-sized statue of Andraste stands at the altar, faced by half a dozen simple pews in the Ferelden-joiner style. He walks toward the statue, taken with its familiarity. It bears scars of fire and it is stippled with age and damage.

There is a placard on the wall and out of curiosity he approaches to read:

**Andraste Greeting the Maker**  
Summer Stone  


This statue was one of a series of ten commissioned by King Calenhad on the birth of his son.  
The statues were placed in Chantries around Ferelden,  
depicting stages of Andraste’s life.  


This is one of only four that survives.  
The other three are located in Redcliffe, Amaranthine, and Highever. Several were lost in the Fifth Blight.  
This statue has been relocated from a Chantry ravaged by the Fifth Blight near the former village of Honnleath.

Cullen is overcome. He staggers back to the front pew and sits down with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

Later, he will remove his Templar armor, placing it aside to spend the night in a vigil of prayer as the last time he did when he saw this statue. But, for now, there is no sound in the silence save his weeping.

**Author's Note:**

> Create Order #5  
> For more on this story's creation, checkout [Appendix, Chapter 6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6612037/chapters/18520750)


End file.
